Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 1118: Chapter 1118 Drum

The noise exploded through the walls like a battering ram.

A door outside had slammed open with a force that shook the floorboards beneath their feet.

The five women flinched simultaneously.

Valery covered her mouth to keep from screaming, while Libby, the youngest of the group, curled in on herself, trembling violently.

Everyone in the room stiffened.

Ross slowly rose to his feet, eyes narrowing.

Another sound.

Heavy footsteps. Fast. Purposeful. They crunched against gravel, then wood—approaching the house without hesitation.

The women clung to one another, their breaths shallow, their eyes wide with terror. Not one of them had to say it aloud—

They thought Bruno’s men had found them.

The tension in the air thickened until it felt like the room itself was holding its breath.

Outside, the footsteps stopped right at Ross’s door.

And then—

BANG! BANG!

Someone pounded on it with enough force to rattle the windows.

“Ahhhhh…”

The group didn’t even care that their loud groans and complaints echoed across the street.

Any nearby zombies would hear them—but it didn’t matter. They weren’t afraid.

Pffft.

Pffft.

Pfttt.

Each sharp sound cut through the night like a needle snapping through cloth.

Every time, another zombie jerked violently before dropping to the ground, a sharpened wooden spike lodged perfectly between its eyes.

The projectiles moved so quickly they only appeared as faint brown blurs—then nothing but corpses.

The man responsible stood lazily at the back of the group, one hand in his pocket, the other scratching at his beard.

His expression was bored, almost sleepy, despite the massacre around him.

He didn’t even glance at the zombies he killed; his mind guided the wooden bolts effortlessly, like flicking dust off a table.

“Ugh, come on already,” he complained, dragging out his words like a sulking child.

“This is taking so long. Just get inside and grab the women. I’m seriously bored of this hunt.”

He kicked a zombie aside with a grunt, annoyed more by the inconvenience than the danger.

Despite the childish tone, the man was clearly in his mid-forties, with tired eyes and a hardened jaw—someone who had done terrible things long before today.

“Yeah, yeah, keep whining,” the younger man at the door snapped.

He was easily the biggest of the group—towering, broad-shouldered, veins bulging across his forearms as he shoved against the barricaded entrance.

“I could fold a damn tank with my fists, and yet this stupid door—” he slammed his shoulder into it again—”won’t even crack.”

The others snickered, watching him struggle.

“Maybe the tank thing is just in your head,” one mocked.

“Shut up before I use you as a battering ram,” the big man growled, pushing harder. Sweat dripped down his temple despite the cold.

Behind them, the streets groaned with more undead stirring.

Shadows swayed at the edges of ruined cars. Low growls rumbled closer.

But none of the men cared—not with their telekinetic marksman casually filling anything that moved with wooden spikes.

The big man roared one last time and threw his entire weight into the door.

CRRRAAACK!

The wood splintered, metal bent, and the entrance finally gave way, collapsing inward with a heavy thud.

“There! Finally!” he said triumphantly, wiping dust off his hands.

The group of six surged forward immediately, boots stomping on broken planks as they pushed into the dim interior of the house.

Their footsteps echoed through the cramped hallway, each man shoving past the other, adrenaline and cruel excitement leaking from their grins.

“Spread out,” the middle-aged marksman muttered as he stepped inside, wooden projectiles orbiting lazily around his head like hungry insects waiting for commands.

“They’re in here somewhere. I can smell the fear.”

The others chuckled darkly.

The leader grinned.

“Found you.”

And the six predators fanned out through the house, ready to tear through the last sanctuary the women had left.

But before the intruders could even reach the basement door—before they could see the reinforced steel plates or the hidden mechanisms Ross had installed—he had already left the bunker behind and walked out to meet them head-on.

His footsteps up the stairs were slow, steady, unhurried.

A predator announcing his presence rather than hiding it.

When he appeared at the top landing, the entire group of six froze.

Ross stood there like a shadow carved into the dim light—tall, broad-shouldered, with a calm expression that didn’t match the chaos of the world outside.

His handsome face was perfectly composed, almost serene, as if he had merely stepped out to check the mail instead of confronting armed killers.

The leader’s eyes twitched.

Something felt wrong.

Something felt dangerous.

“Who the hell are you?” he snapped, tightening his grip on his weapon.

“Where’s Giana and the rest? I know they’re here somewhere—don’t play games with me.”

He stared at Ross’s face again, unnerved by the lack of fear.

The strong didn’t flinch anymore—not in this era.

The age of ordinary humans had ended the day the dead stood back up.

Now, only mutants, gifted warriors, and beings with strange powers walked the earth.

But even among those, Ross’s presence felt… different.

“They’re here,” Ross answered simply, his tone calm and even. “And unfortunately for you, they’re under my protection.”

He took a few steps forward.

The air thickened instantly.

Every man in the group felt their nerves tighten.

The man with the psychic wooden projectiles shifted uneasily, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read Ross’s movements.

Facing an ability user was never a good situation.

It was like stepping into a dark room with no idea what monster waited inside.

Some powers were simple. Others were monstrous.

And the worst were those that seemed mild—until it was too late.

The big man muttered under his breath, “Shit, he’s not scared at all.”

The leader swallowed hard but forced his voice to remain steady.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” he said carefully, “but walk away. Don’t interfere. Giana and the women belong to us. If you leave now, we won’t cause you trouble.”

Ross blinked slowly… then smiled.

A cold, razor-sharp smile.

“It’s too late for that,” he murmured.